Continuing Education
by SkylaraK
Summary: CBPC April. Brennan asks Booth for some help in expanding her professional skills. T for implications. BB friendship.


This is for CBPC April, Small Moments. This isn't directly in one of the episodes, but it's pre-Judas On a Pole, based on the scene where Brennan tries opening a door with a credit card.

Glossary of terms is at the end.

Rating: T (to be on the safe side, for implications)

Disclaimer: The only thing I own that has anything to do with Bones is my season one DVD set.

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The scent of rich Ethiopian spices filled the apartment. The sting of pepper, the tang of vinegar, and the warm sweetness of the injera mingled and caused Brennan's stomach to rumble as she crossed into the living room, carrying two bottles of water. Booth had turned on the radio and quiet music floated through the air.

"Hurry up already, my mouth's on fire," Booth complained, reaching out for one of the bottles she held.

Rolling her eyes, Brennan handed him the water. "It's not my fault you couldn't wait to dig into the food."

She sat down next to him on the couch and pulled a container of doro wat closer to her. Using a piece of injera as a spoon, she scooped up some of the stew and took a bite.

"This is delicious," she said, after swallowing her food. "It's a nice change from Thai."

Booth nodded at her, his mouth too full to speak. They ate quietly for a while, both famished after the strenuous day they had just had. Brennan used the silence to reflect on their latest case. They had figured it all out earlier that morning, and after trying to apprehend the suspect in his home, they had been led on a long car chase that had nearly gotten them killed. Thankfully, Booth was a good driver, although the suspect wasn't nearly so lucky: he was under heavy guard in the hospital with several broken bones and a concussion.

While taking a sip of water to ease the burning in her throat, Brennan glanced at her partner. She knew they each had their own jobs, their specialized roles that made their partnership work so well. But she couldn't help being a little jealous that he was better at some things than she was.

"I don't think it's fair that you have all these skills that I don't," she said.

Booth turned to her, a puzzled look on his face, his next bite of zilzil tibs halfway to his mouth. "Skills?"

"Yes, skills. Like today when we went to arrest Kirkham."

She reached across the table to scoop up some of Booth's tibs, but he swatted her hand away.

"Hands off my tibs. What kind of skills?"

"Well, you know how to sneak up on someone. And you know how to break doors open," she paused for a moment, thinking. "You know how to follow people, and watch them without them seeing you."

A cocky grin spread across Booth's face as she spoke. She knew she shouldn't have brought this up: admitting that he was talented was only going to make his ego worse. But she wanted to know how to do all those interesting things that he could do.

"First of all, Bones, we didn't sneak around that much today. Kirkham, he knew we were following him," he chuckled.

"But you still know how to do that, don't you? And the other stuff?" She could feel her cheeks reddening, she hated to admit that he knew more than she did about some things.

Booth shrugged. "Sure. I had to learn that sort of thing if I wanted to be good at my job, whether it was in the Army or in the FBI."

Gathering all her courage for her next question, she took a deep breath. "Can you teach me?"

Next to her, Booth spluttered, nearly choking on the water he had just taken a sip of. "You want me to teach you?" he managed.

"What's so hard to believe about that?" she said, frowning at him.

"Um, nothing," he said, blinking. Raising a napkin to his lips, he hid another grin, pretending to wipe his mouth. "So, what should I show you?"

Now that he had agreed, she wasn't quite sure what to request. She shifted awkwardly and looked around the room for an idea. Her apartment probably wasn't the best place for this.

"Is there anything you can show me here? I mean, without us having to go somewhere?" she asked, raising her eyebrows and wincing inwardly at the shyness in her voice.

A thoughtful expression crossed Booth's face, and then his eyes lit up.

"I can show you how to break into a room," he offered.

Frowning, she pondered that. "I don't think my landlord would like you smashing my doors open with your shoulder."

His laugh surprised her, and she fought the urge to respond defensively.

"I'm sure he wouldn't. But this won't leave a mark, promise."

Booth rose and took her hands in his, pulling her to her feet. He led her down the hallway towards her bathroom and bedroom, stopping to examine both the doors.

"Here, this one will work," he nodded at her bathroom door. "Now, this little trick isn't really FBI-sanctioned, it's, uh, more of a Black Ops kind of thing."

She shot him a questioning glance. Black Ops meant nothing to her, well, not where her door was concerned anyway.

"Oh, Black Ops, uh, in the military, it's a covert operation, in secret, sometimes with questionable ethics and," he paused, seeing her about to protest, and sighed exasperatedly. "Look, it's just things that might be considered a little illegal," he explained. She nodded hesitantly, unsure of how something could be "a little" illegal.

"Okay, so you'll need a credit card, or maybe a paper clip. This won't work on exterior doors, except maybe on very, very old houses."

He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and extracted a credit card. Making sure that the door was pulled shut, Booth showed her the gap between the door and the frame.

"See that little crack there? If you slip a credit card in there, you can force the bolt out of the notch and the door will open, even if it's been locked from the other side."

And with that, he slid the credit card into the small gap, fiddled with it a bit, and the door swung open. She looked up at him, rather impressed. If she'd only known how to do that a few months ago when she had accidentally locked her car keys in her bedroom, it would have saved her an emergency call to her landlord.

Booth pulled the door shut and examined the doorknob. "I'll show you this, too. Do you have a paperclip?"

"Do I have a paperclip?" she smirked. She went into her office and took one from the jumbo box of paperclips in her drawer. Within moments she was back at his side.

Smiling, he took the proffered paperclip. "Now, see this little hole here?" he asked, pointing to the doorknob as he straightened out the paperclip into a long straight piece of metal.

At her nod, he continued, "This can take a while, but if you stick something like a paperclip in there and wiggle it around, you might be able to align the pins and unlock the door."

"I'll go inside and lock the door behind me, and it'll be up to you to rescue me," he directed.

"Rescue you? From what, my toiletries?" she asked, laughing lightly.

"Okay, well, if you don't want to rescue me, then rescue your toiletries from my snooping," he retorted, a mischievous glint in his eye. Before she could protest, he stepped into her bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind him.

"Booth, wait, don't go through my things!" she griped. She didn't mind him seeing her shampoo and makeup, or even her tampons and birth control pills, but she definitely didn't want him to see what was in the bottom drawer of her vanity. She blushed furiously at the thought.

"Well, Bones, you'd better hurry up. I'm gonna start with your medicine cabinet."

With a grumble, she slid the paperclip into the little hole and pushed it around. She had no idea what she was doing, he had only told her to wiggle it. She wiggled, and then she tried waggling. Nothing.

"Hmm, mouthwash, toothpaste, hairspray. Where do you keep the fun stuff?" His voice was slightly muffled through the door.

Well, at least there was nothing too bad in the medicine cabinet. Let him rummage through her hair products, while she fumbled around with the lock.

Twist and turn as she might, she didn't seem to be making any progress. She pulled the paperclip halfway out, tilted it, and tried prodding at the mysterious metal parts from that angle. Still nothing.

"Okay, your medicine cabinet's boring, let's see what you have under the sink."

Sighing in frustration, she attacked the doorknob with renewed vigor. She knew the sight of her feminine products would cause him to move on quickly, and that only left the three drawers next to the sink. She heard him cough, then clear his throat in an embarrassed sort of way.

"On second thought, let's skip under the sink." She heard a drawer sliding open and groaned. "Wow, you have a ton of makeup," he said, chuckling.

Pulling the paperclip partway out again, she tilted it in a different direction and pushed it in, jiggling it furiously.

"Extra toilet paper in the next drawer, how convenient, Bones. I'm almost done in here, you're taking forever," he teased.

Miraculously, she heard and felt the lock click. Turning the knob, she thrust the door open, stopping only when the door hit something with a resounding "thwack."

"Ow! Dammit, Bones!"

He stepped out from behind the door, rubbing his hip where the doorknob must have hit him. She cringed, sorry that he was hurt, but relieved that he hadn't gotten any further than the second drawer.

"I'm sorry, Booth, I didn't realize you were behind the door."

"Mmm-hmm. No more Black Ops moves for you," he paused, as a wide smirk crept across his lips.

"And Bones, that bottom drawer? Don't girls normally keep that sort of thing in their nightstand?"

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Injera is a flat bread, almost like a pancake. It's made with a special fermented batter, and very hard to duplicate unless you have Ethiopian flour (teff).

Doro wat is a spicy, very thick chicken stew. The Ethiopian spice used is berbere, along with a seasoned butter, niter kebbeh.

Zilzil tibs is strips of steak sauteed in a sauce of berbere and vinegar.

Writing this story has made me **very** hungry.


End file.
